


The Correct Quote Has Never Mattered More Than Now

by CelticGHardy



Category: The Following
Genre: Gen, Major Warnings Inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3462356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticGHardy/pseuds/CelticGHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Okay, fine. Ryan wasn't watching this because they needed more information about the murderers. His real focus was their victim. Something had been nagging him and he wanted to try and figure it out without Max commenting or Mike shrugging it off.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Correct Quote Has Never Mattered More Than Now

**Author's Note:**

> Due to the prompt this fill is for, the story has warnings due to the content.
> 
> Warnings: Assault, Verbal Abuse, Hypothetical Child Abuse, Anti-Homosexual Slurs, Mentions of bashing. Dark light on military service, Past Child Abuse
> 
> These are why it is rated Mature. These are sensitive topics. I have tried my best not to hurt people on these subjects while also writing in a realistic matter.

Ryan was the best choice to re-watch the video they received from Lily. Mike had back to Virginia with his family. Max was dealing with the fallout from losing her position in the Cyber Unit. With the two out, he set up the tablet and mentally prepared himself before starting the video. Her face was the first thing he saw, gloating about the loss of Max. Pulling the camera back, he saw the walls, which were meant to inform Mike on where they were.

Richard Weston wasn't any less angry than the last time he was watching this. _“Say hello to your son, Richard,”_ Lily directed, pointing the camera at him and Mark. The man glared at the camera before muttering _'Go to hell.'_ He stopped the video before Mark sliced the man's throat again.

Neither of the two had made major changes to their wardrobe or their appearance. Lily used scarves and wigs to hide herself. Mark had a body language that had most people passing over him. That along with casual clothing that didn't stand out and he didn't have to change much to hide. _They're probably also using people to run all their errands and have seriously good places that are remote but stocked._

Okay, fine. Ryan wasn't watching this because they needed more information about the murderers. His real focus was their victim. Something had been nagging him and he wanted to try and figure it out without Max commenting or Mike shrugging it off. Once he had all the pieces in place, then he was going to bring it up. A part of him didn't want to think like this, but it... Ryan hated to think about it. He had lost his parents young, but they had always loved him and his siblings. Ray was always a good father to Max even when he was tired and wanted to sleep after a double shift.

Rewinding the video, he watched the man again. Go to hell would be the sort of thing that he would have told Lily and Mark when she was about to kill him. Of course, if he was in the same place, he might have told the person on the other end that it wasn't their fault. Maybe he was getting sentimental in his sober and old age.

_If you knew that this was going to be the last thing that the intended target, your own son, saw, would you just say go to hell to your attackers? Wouldn't you tell them you loved them, you were proud?_ It drove him mad, thinking about why Richard Weston had only said go to hell. Did he not believe he was going to be killed? Did he only want to show defiance until the end? He was former Military, that he got from the salute and the medals and the two proud sons standing at the shoulders of Marilyn Weston, sister of the deceased. Mike talked about another that he got along well with, but he wasn't there. He had been focused on Mike to search the trees for people standing far away. Did the man really want to be completely stoic and not tell his loved ones goodbye?

Setting it back up again, he checked the clock and reminded himself that Max would be getting back from her meeting in about thirty minutes with food. Hitting play again, he stared at the video. Lily's introduction was becoming stale and then he was seeing Richard again. He connected with the man's eyes when he said the words again.

Wait.

He hadn't been looking at Lily. He had been staring at the damn camera. The man had been telling whoever was watching the video to 'go to hell'. Richard Weston didn't know Ryan. Lily had been sending the video to him, but... She had assumed Mike would be right next to him, watching the video when he got it. She had been right. Richard Weston wasn't telling Lily to go to hell.

He had been telling it to his own son, Mike.

-

Just before Ryan was making this discovery, Mike was walking around the town his family had centered around for twenty-five years. When the service had started dying down, his family had no trouble kicking him out and away when it was a few close family friends. After the attack from Strauss, he was somehow convinced to go back. It was stupid, he could have just told Ryan and then hung around New York waiting for the right time to show back up.

Instead, his family and a good portion of the population was ignoring him. Two places wouldn't serve him. Others looked at him in contempt before taking his money. He was staying at his house because no one wanted him to rent him a room in the county. _Fuck Ryan's suggestion. 'Reconnecting' with my family? None of the ones that even care want to see me. And the ones that do care aren't around. I wish Mom was closer._ The woman had left to San Diego, his hometown, after the divorce. His brother was up in some state for an assignment that he didn't understand. There were his maternal cousins and aunts and uncles, but none of them were close to the area.

Going back to his own place, he grabbed a couple of six packs and a bottle of whiskey before parking it for the night. Mike took his cell phone and ejected the battery so no one could call him and unplugged the land line for the same effect. Settling down on the couch, the memory of tasking himself to feed the dog flashed up and then disappeared. Like his girlfriend and the dog. “You're reacting,” he muttered, opening a bottle and drinking. “This isn't what you actually want. You're reacting to what happened to you. You're a different person, Mike. I can't stay with you, Mike.” The first was drained and he reached for the next one. “You can barely take care of yourself, Michael, how are you going to take care of the dog?”

His second one was downed before he realized that he hadn't even turned on the TV. There wasn't really a point at it being on, but something to drown out the flashbacks would be nice. Instead, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a large mug and shot glass before sitting back down. He poured his third beer into the glass and filled the shot with whiskey.

_Go to hell._

“Already heading there, Dad,” he muttered. Mike took the shot glass and carefully dropped it in the beer, watching the stronger liquor mix in with the alcohol. He didn't wait long to drink, taking a few light sips to prepare his mouth and throat for the immense burning that came with the larger gulps. It took him a bit longer to get through it, but it was satisfying when he was finished.

His door slammed open and he didn't even look to see who it was. Lily and Mark probably wouldn't announce their presence. Ryan might knock, Max would. It had to be his brothers, the ones that had helped his father 'toughen' him up and got all the sympathy from the visitors at the service.

“Look, our weakling brother's managed to drink a few beers,” Brandon sneered, standing in front of the TV. He saw the beer mug with a shot glass in it. “Even got into some whiskey. And you're still awake, Mikey. Last time we saw you, shit like that knocked you out.” Daniel laughed.

It was a horrible idea, but he was already drunk and thinking shit about himself. “Wow, are you already here trying to replace Dad's place?” he commented, itching for the fourth beer, “Because he had a particular style that made me hate myself and try so much that I wanted to puke from anxiety when I couldn't succeed. And you're not even close.”

“He was trying to prepare you, maggot,” Daniel, his other brother, challenged. Standing next to him, he was waiting for the perfect comment to start hitting at.

“Prepare me,” Mike taunted, keeping the nearby weapons away from his hands. Fists worked better when one was drunk. “Do you do the same thing to George? Tell him to toughen up when he's having an asthma attack? 'You don't need that damn inhaler, it's a goddamn crutch.'” He switched to Brandon. “Do you prepare Emily when she's crying from an attack by screaming at her sergeant style? How well does Dad's parenting style work around your kids and your wives?”

Daniel punched him, sending him into the couch. “Don't you dare criticized him.”

Half against the cushions, he mumbled, “I'll do whatever the hell I want.” The closer brother drew him back up and made him stand. He felt like he was back in the yard after Charlie hit him.

“Fucking weak little shit,” Brandon hissed, “Beat someone with your damn hands and you don't have the guts to finish.”

“I'm sorry, I actually suffer consequences from killing people,” he mocked, “How many innocent people have you killed overseas?” That got a punch to the gut. Not a good idea, the alcohol was being unsettled and he might puke it up. Although if he did, it would land on Brandon pretty damn well. “What? Don't want to admit you're a fuck up?”

“Dad raised us right. You're so screwed up that he couldn't fix it. You and the damn fag.”

He hated when they brought his only good brother into this. “Do your friends know you're a gay basher? You think any of them know that you used to beat up a couple of the gay kids in high school?” he taunted, “How about your CO? Your superiors? That type of attitude wouldn't swing well in your position now.” Daniel grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him back so he couldn't stop him from threatening to break it. Mike didn't yell, just gritted his teeth and breathed through the spurts of pain. They got satisfaction when he showed weakness. “You didn't answer my question.”

Brandon hit him again. The combined pain almost pushed him to puke, but he didn't. Instead, spittle came out of his mouth and landed on his brother. “Disgusting, maggot,” he frowned.

Mike asked, “Are you two done? This is getting boring. You should have met the guys from the first round. Charlie would have given you a run for your money. Louise as well. She was Blackwater. Dad would have loved them. Charlie stabbed me, she was gonna slit my throat. Dad would have been cheering them on.”

A phone went off before Brandon could start beating him. Daniel had to let him go to answer. “Hey, honey,” he answered, his voice lightening, “No, I'm with Brandon. We're just getting back from visiting the cemetery.” Mike couldn't make out the other end. “Yeah, I can go and pick up the refill for George's inhaler. Anything else?” He nodded as he mentally noted them. “Got it. See you in a half-hour, Linda.”

He thought they would have just walked out, leaving him alone. Instead, Daniel got one last punch in, sending him to the ground. “Get up, maggot.”

_Fuck you, fuck Dad, fuck this damn family_. “Fuck you,” he swore, “Fuck you and get the hell out of my house.”

Daniel walked out first, going over the shopping list he now had to get. “You know you deserve this,” he said, “You deserve this for getting Dad killed.” _I know._ He just waited for his other brother to walk out of the house before getting up and locking the door so no one else would just barge in.

-

Unknown to Ryan, he managed to arrive at Mike's house a couple of hours after the brother's visit. The younger man was starting to feel the slightest beginnings of pain due to his inability to use alcohol as a pain reliever. A part of him was getting hungry, and nothing in the house was sounding good enough to put effort in to cook. Ryan didn't know this, he just knew it was about time to eat. Finding a good enough restaurant that had some healthy options and the choice to order and take out, he picked out something for himself and Mike. Even if Mike didn't eat it, it could be stuffed in the fridge.

Knocking on the door, it took a few minutes for Mike to answer the door. He was standing stiffly, which worried Ryan, but the smile was completely devoid of the pain he was feeling. “I was just searching for something to eat,” he commented, “You either have excellent timing or you have telepathic powers.”

He knew the kid was a comic book geek. “Yeah, I don't think I'm anything like Professor X,” he panned. Entering, Mike went to the kitchen to grab a couple of his plates and forks. “I thought you said you had a terrier mix?”

Mike was surprised he remembered that detail. “I did. My girlfriend took him when we broke up.” The bottles were still on the coffee table and he picked them up after sitting down the plates. He knew he had something non-alcoholic for the man around. Maybe some tea or something.

“When did that happen?”

“After I proposed and she declined,” he answered, neglecting the other half of the conversation. His fridge held the other pack he had bought, the whiskey that was opened, and an Arizona jug. _That will work._ He pulled it out and grabbed two glasses that weren't dirty or chipped and placed them down by the plates. There was an ice tray and he offered it to Ryan so he could place a couple of cubes in before pouring over some tea. With everything out, they started eating.

With the TV on a news station to watch for new developments or if someone wanted to gloat, they were mostly silent, Ryan commenting on some of the things he's noticed. “Why wasn't your Mother there?”

He smirked before wiping it off. “She was celebrating out in San Diego. After their divorce, any sort of friendly relationship dissolved with the way he was acting.”

That should have surprised him, but somehow didn't. “And your other brother? The one that you get along with?”

“Working,” he skimmed. “His job's important, so he doesn't get that much time off.”

“Even Secret Service agents can get time off for funerals,” he commented. Mike snorted. “What's funny about that?”

“No, no, it's... My brother's work. It's nothing.”

A part of him wanted to keep on the topic, it was interesting. He hasn't even gotten a name from Mike. When he was done asking about his father, he would switch back. A possibly happier topic. With most of the meal done, the rest went into the fridge before they settled onto the couch.

Ryan ventured out. “I was re-watching the video,” he started, gaining his attention quickly.

“Anything new on Lily or Mark?” he asked.

“No. Nothing identifiable on them that could help. Lily can change and Mark will if needed.” Mike went back to staring at the table. He took a breath to give some time between the change. “I noticed something about your father.” He tensed, then loosened as he stopped bothering to hide things about this from him. He would be able to see it anyways. “He was staring right at the camera when he said 'Go to hell.' I've never met the guy, so I'm pretty sure that it wasn't me.”

“It was me,” he admitted to no surprise.

He inquired after a minute, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Mike said, “But you... you probably want to know about it.” He inhaled, held it to achieve a false sense of calm and exhaled. “When I was thirteen, I told my Dad that I liked a guy the same way I liked a girl. Dad called me a fag and hit me for the first time. I told Mom that it was from rough-housing and she didn't question it. I never brought it back up again in front of him, but he kept an emotional distance after that, would hit me whenever I did something that he considered 'faggy.' When I was fourteen, a doctor's visit brought up a medical condition that made me ineligible for military service.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Something stupid.” He shrugged, not even remembering why it was a problem. “It became worse. It was slaps and sometimes a fist, then punches became normal, and he would use his belt to whip me. Called me a fag, called me weak. Said I wouldn't fit into the family anymore unless I toughened up. My oldest brothers would join in, holding me down, beating me up, berating me the same way. It was particularly bad on our fifteenth birthday. I was whipped so bad that Mom ended up taking me to the hospital, my good brother came home with his first boyfriend.”

He could see how bad it would have been. “You weren't removed,” he noted.

“Mom tried. She filed divorce papers after, used the abuse as a point to get both of us removed. He fought, and won to keep me. Said that I might have been savable. My brother was a lost cause. Since it was before the repeal of DADT, he couldn't enter the military without hiding and he was not planning on doing that.”

“They allowed him to do this?”

“He was a veteran with several friends in the police and the courts. Didn't matter to them, they agreed with the treatment. Beat the gay out.” It was always horrible to talk about, but keeping it clinical and himself detached helped to a point. “He didn't put me in the hospital again, kept every hit to a place that I could hide it. The week before I hit eighteen, I got a couple of friends to help me move out. I didn't go back home after I turned legal. He couldn't hit me when I came home to visit the first time, but he kept verbally degrading me.” His next breath was shaky, but that wasn't unexpected. _I'm more surprised that I didn't break down. The last time I got this far, I started crying._

Ryan was stunned at the information he released, but more at the cold delivery, like it was evidence on a case. _Maybe it was his first case. Why did his father hit him? Try to connect to get him to stop. Didn't work considering it continued after his entrance into the FBI and his experiences._ “Why did you go back?” he asked, trying to figure that part out. His mother was celebrating, his brother didn't come to the funeral. Why?

That actually did make him sniffle, because no one else went this far and it was the part that hurt the most for him. “Because,” he struggled, his emotions unraveling, “I remember the guy that came to a stupid first grade play when Mom couldn't get the time off. I remember him taking all of us to the ballpark. I remember the guy that was so proud when I brought home As and Bs, that was happy when the teachers had no complaints about me. I wanted my Dad back. I wanted that version of my Dad back.” He cried. “I wanted him back and I could never get him back. And now I have lost all possibility of more chances.”

Ryan knew that it was push him over. He felt bad about it, horrible. “Come here,” he muttered, pulling him over. Mike flopped against him, head turning to muffle his sobs and one hand clenching and letting go in a rhythm with his sobs. The other man used one hand to hold his head, threading his fingers through his head. It went along with the hand that ran up and down his back. He didn't talk, even if he thought about singing some Bon Jovi. Max was a fan of that when she was a baby, maybe he could hum some to calm him down. Instead, he waited.

It took a few minutes for him to still and stop, Mike removing his hand to help himself up. “Snotty and wet isn't a good look on you,” he mumbled, seeing his handy work on Ryan's shirt.

“Yeah, I haven't rocked it in a while,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.” Mike frowned, which made Ryan wonder. “What's wrong?”

“This afternoon's events are catching up.”

“Why?”

“A couple of drinks and my brothers came over.”

That worried him a little. “Have you puked at all?”

He shook his head, then held it. “No.”

Ryan grabbed the blanket that was on the couch and pulled Mike up. “Okay, let's make a visit there now. Then you can tell me about the last brother you haven't mentioned.”

-

**The Incorrect Quote That Everyone Remembers:**

_"Blood is thicker than water."_

**Original Quote That Has Been Forgotten:**

_"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."_

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> [Mike+ Other (preferably Ryan) - Last Words. Possible reference to child abuse and neglect](http://kink-following.livejournal.com/754.html?thread=153586#t153586%20%20)  
> **
> 
>  
> 
> When Mike's dad said 'go to hell' it wasn't aimed at Lily or Mark. The man fully realized that he was speaking to his youngest son for the last time and made his opinion known (possibly not for the first time). Mike knows this although most think the man was putting on a brave face, but someone sees through it and confronts Mike.
> 
> Bonuses:  
> -I'd prefer it if the person was Ryan but filler can run with whoever and I'll be happy.  
> -Mike still loves his father despite the man's view of him. This makes the video a double blow with the death and the last words.
> 
>  
> 
> Some headcanons and thoughts that I created around this story or that influenced this story:
> 
> \- Steve Jinks is the last brother. (He changed from Weston to his mother's maiden name.)  
> \- HC – The woman that stood with Mike's brothers wasn't their mother, it was his father's sister. Their mother left their father years before and didn't come to the funeral. That's why she called him a few days later. She had heard about the family silently exiling him and wanted to know if was all right.  
> \- Steve had been thrown out of the house after he was found to be gay. Mike's bi, and Richard thought he could beat the gay out of his youngest, but the other one he wouldn't even bother to try. Their mother took him (Steve) and divorced the bastard. Their two oldest sons agreed with their father, joining in on the bullying of his youngest brother to get the gay out of him. They also went and beat Steve, but Olivia and a couple of her male friends knocked them on their asses when they did that.  
> \- Richard believed his son was weak when it was discovered that he had a minor medical problem that barred him entry to the armed forces. That and his bisexuality made him a good target for his hatred of everything that was going wrong in the world.


End file.
